


Misery Business, Part Two

by 6YearsABrave



Series: Misery Business [2]
Category: Baseball RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: 2012 season, Abuse, Atlanta Braves, Jealousy, M/M, Washington Nationals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 11:05:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6801145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/6YearsABrave/pseuds/6YearsABrave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bryce is back for more from Dan - but now Dan can't give it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misery Business, Part Two

Dan Uggla couldn’t find his true swing.

He’d been slumping at the plate since the All-Star break, and the game which he started at second base. He’d asked himself many times if he was distracted, but couldn’t really put his finger on it. 

This was because the week after the break, Andrelton Simmons, the young shortstop, fractured a bone in his hand making a daring slide into second in a game against the Phillies. He’d been out since then, and Paul Janish, who they made a minor league trade for with the Reds, had been in. And Dan had been enjoying it thoroughly since day one.

Dan and Paul had really hit it off fast. They were both from the Midwest, not far apart in age, and were both every-day players. Paul felt perfectly fine sharing his feelings of being unwanted from playing in the minors all season in Cincinnati, and Dan was more than ready to comfort him. One could easily say, by mid-August, that the two were pretty much inseparable. 

So when the Braves went to Washington to play the Nationals for the first time since the break, Dan wasn’t about to go seeking out love there. 

On the contrary, it sought him out.

 

Dan had just come back after a loss in the first game into the empty visitors’ clubhouse from the shower rooms, drying off his hair as he gathered his clothes into his bag, readying them to take back to the hotel, when he heard a noise.

He paused. That wasn’t just any noise. Then he realized he wasn’t alone. 

He looked around and finally spotted the source of the little peep. A dark, hooded figure lurked at the edge of the hallway as it stared toward him.

Dan stared back until he finally said in a low voice, “Who’s there?”

The shady figure stepped into the dim light. He was a bit taller than Dan, and since he was hooded and dressed all in black, Dan didn’t recognize him at first. But when he took several steps closer he recognized the man’s youthful face. 

“Someone who loves you,” Bryce Harper said. He put his hood down cautiously.

“Loves me?” Dan said, not surprised, but trying to act like it.

“Yes,” Bryce replied in a sincere enough tone, coming closer and closer to Dan every second. “And finally,” he continued, “we’re back together.” He was right up against Dan now.

“Bryce,” Dan said, taken aback by his flawless teeth, his soft lips, even his breath. 

“Yes, Dan?” He replied in a lusty voice. “My dear Brave?”

“I’m not your dear Brave,” he replied in a flat tone as Bryce’s gorgeous face moved ever so closer to Dan’s. Dan didn’t flinch or back away, but he knew that he wanted to and didn’t want to at the same time. 

“Then what _are_ you if I love you like this?” Bryce questioned, pausing an inch away from Dan. 

Dan couldn’t bear to stay on this subject much longer. “How are you in here? Don’t you have to go home sometime tonight? It’s late.” It was an innocent enough question.

Bryce just held Dan’s gaze for a second more, then said, “I can do anything I want in my home ballpark. Including pay the guests a visit.” He cocked his head a little, then cautiously glanced back toward the shower rooms. “Follow me,” he whispered.

“Bryce, wh-”

“Just come on!” He took Dan firmly by the arm, forcing him to drop the towel he was holding. As they disappeared into the darkness down the hallway, Dan glanced back for a second and saw Paul coming out of the shower rooms, oblivious to his connection with Bryce and what had just happened. _How did he hear Paul?_ Dan thought.

They ended up in a small janitor’s closet near the entrance to the visitors’ dugout, well out of earshot of the clubhouse or any security that might still be lurking. Once there, Bryce faced Dan, taking his wrists and pulling them close.

“Dan,” Bryce started, “you know what you did for me.”

“Yes, but I don’t understand why I can’t introduce you to-”

“It was amazing,” Bryce continued, undeterred. “I can’t wait to share that love with you again.”

“Bryce, I-”

“I’ve thought of nothing else since the All-Star break!” He continued, a picturesque smile on his face, his eyes sparkling. “Even being around my teammates isn’t as bad now because I know what love really is.”

“But Bryce-”

“And now, I can have that again. Dan?” His face inched even closer.

“Yes?”

“I…I’ve been dying to say this…I love-”

“I already have a boyfriend, Bryce.” Dan just let it out in one, decisive breath. He knew he’d love to hear those words from Bryce’s mouth, but he couldn’t help it. Bryce had to know about Paul before Dan lost him. 

He stopped short of Dan’s lips. “You what?”

“I already have a boyfriend,” Dan said, looking at the poor young outfielder’s beautiful face with such conflicting emotion, the battle was nearly destroying Dan. “His name is Paul…Paul Janish. And…I love him now.” He couldn’t apologize. “He’s the latest everyday shortstop.”

Bryce stared at Dan for a moment. Then, “Oh. It’s okay, he’ll never know.” He moved in closer, closing his eyes at the same time, but Dan turned away, with a great effort.

“I would apologize,” Dan said. “But I can’t. I love him.”

Bryce stopped and stared at Dan again, his blue eyes draining of their liveliness. His mouth drooped open a moment, then he said, “So this is it.”

“It has to be.” Dan freed his hands of Bryce’s warm grip. “You’re a gorgeous and talented young ballplayer, but I’ve already got my own. I really enjoy your friendship, though.”

“I’m not here for mere friendship,” Bryce said defiantly as his arm came up sensually around Dan’s neck. “I’m here for love!” He tried to kiss Dan.

“I can’t give it to you,” Dan said, turning away again. “My love is Paul’s!”

“I don’t understand!” Bryce said angrily. “If you don’t really love me now, then it was never true love!”

“You can’t really love me if you don’t respect my feelings!” Dan countered.

“You know what, I can’t do this.” Bryce turned his back to Dan. Then he looked up and out into the night sky, which was ominous and cloudy.

“You’ll find love here, in Washington,” Dan said, in not much more than a whisper.

“No, I won’t!” Bryce said in a low voice without moving his head. “I’ll just go home, then come back tomorrow morning and get abused again by those dickheads I call teammates. Then I’ll play my heart out only to get raped again and again, and I’ll be too nervous to tell anyone. I’ll just do that my whole life, instead of having ten minutes of happiness here with you every once in a while!” He pulled his black hood back up. “So I hope you enjoy your little minor-league shortstop, Paul what’s-his-face.” Then he disappeared across the field back to the home clubhouse, leaving Dan feeling sorry for both himself and Bryce.

 

The next night the Nationals beat the Braves again, this time in thirteen innings. Bryce played an integral part in that game, stealing the base that would prove to let him be the tying run. After the walk-off celebration, no one would notice him sneaking across the field again, he figured, as champagne and pies were indulged upon.

Since the Braves were all so glum after losing a game that late at night, no one did notice Bryce, covered in black just like last night, creeping through the shadows to peer into the Braves clubhouse and try to spot Dan again – who he just couldn’t get over in one night.

But Bryce didn’t see what he wanted to see – or planned to see.

 

“Oh, Dan,” Paul Janish said in a low, frustrated voice. “Why did that have to happen?”

Dan sighed. “I don’t know, Paul,” he replied, holding his hands out to him. “But at least we battled. We can contend with these guys, I just know it.”

“But we’re too far behind,” Paul said, taking Dan’s hands in his own as he looked at him longingly.

“Don’t give up already, Paul,” Dan said as he drew closer. Bryce just watched from his hidden vantage point, still as a statue, silent as the grave.

Paul sighed. Bryce felt no pity for Paul, only a hard, cold, deep something, like a lump in his chest where his heart should have been. He felt like Paul shouldn’t have even been there. He felt like it was all just wrong. He felt like…

“I can’t stand to see you sad. Don’t sigh like that.” Dan brought Paul’s hands up to his thick chest and put his own around Paul’s little waist, holding him closer. Paul let out a puff of breath. “I…”

For the first time, as Dan’s lips moved toward Paul’s, Bryce found his nerve and turned his face away from them, scrunching his eyes shut. He clenched a fist in anger as he thought the most outrageous thoughts he ever thought in his life. And they all revolved around one person:

_Paul Janish._

He got up silently and left without ever being seen.

 

The next night proved to be the Braves’ night of redemption. They finally won, salvaging the final game of the series, beating the pitcher the Nationals brought in just for them, Ross Detwiler, behind the dominant Kris Medlen. However, Bryce felt the full crushing blow of two defeats and couldn’t hold it all bottled up inside. 

 

Paul Janish heard a noise.

It was a tiny noise, no more noticeable than a mouse grabbing a piece of cheese and scurrying away. It made him pause for a split second, but then, with all his happy teammates around, he thought, somebody was probably just stumbling around in the dark, trying to find their way in this big Nationals Park. 

He nonchalantly put his jersey back in his bag as he packed up to get ready for the return trip home. A smile was still on his face from the win, which Dan had been a big part of and they had needed so desperately.

He heard another noise. Instinctively, he turned around to the source.

There was a lone man standing there, dressed all in black, like the grim reaper. It was so unexpected, Paul’s large brown eyes widened and his hands tensed. He prepared himself for anything as he didn’t know what to expect now, being alone with this suspicious…

National.

The man dropped back his dark hood, exposing his young, strikingly handsome face. Paul recognized the popular rookie, Bryce Harper.

And he didn’t look happy.

“It’s Paul, isn’t it?” He asked in a voice low and filled with steely menace as he took a few slow steps forward toward Paul.

“Hey there,” Paul stammered quietly, moving slowly backwards. “What’s going on?” He tried to chuckle sarcastically, but it didn’t have any effect on the young rookie who was closing in on him.

“I hear you’re close with a certain Dan Uggla,” he continued. Paul noticed that when he said Dan’s name his voice softened just a bit. He didn’t stop his slow advance toward Paul, though.

“Y-yeah,” Paul said nervously, getting the feeling he was being cornered – for a reason. “What of it?”

Bryce made a face – a face so twisted, yet confused at the same time. So angry, yet also hurt and wounded. Paul knew he was struggling mightily with his emotions. 

And he was right. Without warning Bryce lunged toward the helpless Paul with all the force of a charging bull. He didn’t stop until Paul’s back was slammed against the wall and Bryce’s chest pinned him there.

Up until now Paul’s greatest fear was that he couldn’t see Bryce’s hands among his thick black garb, and it was the most legitimate fear to have. But when he slowly revealed his hands, and also a thick, roughly serrated dagger in his right one, Paul’s fears extended to many other avenues.

Paul was simply outmatched by Bryce, strength and agility-wise. However, Paul was also several years older and more experienced, and knew he could out-think him if he couldn’t out-fight him.

“Do you know what happens to thieves?” Bryce snarled, brandishing his knife out to the side as he breathed heavily, and angrily, right down into Paul’s face.

Paul couldn’t say anything, as he was still catching his breath from Bryce’s shove. But before the knife could swoop back towards him, he threw up his knee, catching Bryce where it hurts most.

Bryce merely grunted, his hands lowering, and Paul seized the moment. He shoved him back with all his might.

Bryce stumbled, and Paul shoved him again, but by that time Bryce was on the offensive. He grabbed Paul’s arm with his left hand, pulling him closer. As he did, Paul kicked out at his leg. 

He caught Bryce on the shin, and this time he buckled and went down to his knees. Paul tried to descend on him and get on top of him in order to wrest the knife away, but Bryce just pulled him down to the floor. Paul did his best to avoid the blade, but soon Bryce had managed to pin him to the floor and get on top of him, crushing him. Then he brought the dagger up…

Too slowly. Paul desperately grabbed Bryce’s wrist with his left hand, stopping it in midair. It shook precariously in Bryce’s tense grip as their strength drained slowly from their arms.

The blade was poised directly over Paul’s heart, and it was making its way downward.

Paul thought fast. Without panicking, he knew he could distract the young, inexperienced Bryce – even if it was just for a second – and take advantage of him that way. So he took his eyes off the blade – the point of which had inched dangerously close to his chest – and looked to the other side of the room, even though he knew there was nothing there to see. He widened his eyes and sucked in his breath, as if to gasp.

Lucky for him, Paul’s plan worked. Bryce immediately glanced to where Paul was looking, and in that fraction of a second, Paul forcefully flicked Bryce’s wrist away, sending the knife careening to the other side of the room.

What ensued next, Paul hardly remembered afterward. He remembered a blur of constant struggle with Bryce, stumbling over, then under, then over him again across the floor, punching him, slapping him, getting punched and slapped and shoved, trying desperately to do anything to get to the knife first as if his life depended on it, which it did. And then there was the final blow.

Paul felt a rush of air come up and out his mouth, a sharp force totally emptying his lungs in an instant. Unable to inhale again, he saw a whirring motion of Bryce’s leg, then the ceiling passing by, and then no more as everything went black.

 

Finally! Bryce thought as he got his bearings, a wicked smile beginning to cross his face, and headed to retrieve his dagger from the floor. He snickered to himself as he turned around with it clenched in his right hand. There was Paul Janish, lying on his back, still as stone, eyes closed and head sagged to the side, totally vulnerable.

Bryce advanced toward him with wide eyes like a killer cat stalking its unsuspecting prey. He noticed Paul wasn’t breathing, but wouldn’t deny himself the perverse pleasure of stabbing his heart over and over anyway if he really was already dead. It was partly anger at Dan; indirect anger at Paul; anger at his teammates and all the others who had abused, violated, and taken advantage of him; and anger at himself. And he wanted nothing more than to get it all out.

But just as his wild eyes were wandering back and forth between Paul’s limp body and his sharp weapon, something made him freeze. Not because he was suddenly afraid to stab Paul – but because there was a third party watching.

Bryce slowly turned his head as he looked behind him. 

Dan Uggla stood in the doorway, still, silent, and staring.

His face was totally calm, his demeanor composed and even peaceful. But it was a dark, a sorrowful kind of peace, like the peace that accompanies death.

Bryce’s feelings for him softened his features involuntarily as he looked over into Dan’s eyes. He couldn’t do anything to Paul now. In fact, in that moment, he forgot all about Paul. Then his limbs just acted for him, like a robot, concealing the knife back in his black clothes and going out the door, as if he were just going to hang out in the dugout. Dan’s appearance numbed him, and with a silent order he couldn’t disobey, he had to submit. Words could do nothing.

Until Bryce left without a word, Dan just stood there, taking in the sight of Paul lying unconscious. He couldn’t say anything to Bryce, just to Paul.

“Paul,” Dan said urgently, his voice finally finding volume, his legs discovering their strength as he ran to him, falling to his knees beside him. He picked him up, wrapping his arms underneath Paul’s back, as gently as if he were a newborn baby. Paul was totally limp, and sagged in Dan’s arms. Dan’s eyes were closed for a moment, almost tearing up a little, but then he forced himself to open them and look down at Paul.

There was no blood. This was what reassured Dan the most.

“Paul,” he said again, this time quietly. “Oh, Paul.” His voice began to crack with emotion as he brought Paul’s head up closer to him.

Overcome, Dan bowed his head down, touching his forehead to Paul’s as he slowly closed his eyes. Then he brought Paul’s face closer and kissed his motionless, pale lips. He breathed into Paul’s empty lungs, wishing he could die in his place, somehow sacrifice himself to save him. But in reality, all Dan could do was give him his breath.

He kissed him again, passionately, as he gave Paul all the air he could. He had started to think that it wasn’t working as he fervently pressed his lips to his unconscious boyfriend’s a third time, this time desperately, as if it would be the last time in their lives. But it wasn’t. 

Because somehow, it worked. 

When Dan pulled back, Paul’s eyelids began to flutter. His arms started to twitch, like they were trying to move, and a puff of warm air rushed out of his mouth up into Dan’s face. And Paul breathed back in again.

All Dan could do was smile and watch as Paul opened his eyes and looked up at him. A smile immediately touched Paul’s lips as he saw Dan’s face and realized what was happening. Their foreheads touched as they both closed their eyes again. They’d never enjoyed or felt more relief in a kiss as they did their next one.

As they pulled back, looking at each other again, Dan started, “I’m so sorry – this should never have happened. I-”

“It isn’t your fault, Dan,” Paul felt he had to interrupt. “I know. A rookie, insecure, mistreated, coming after you, the kindest person he’s ever met.” Paul took as deep a breath as he could. “I’d suffer under that knife every day for you.”

Dan couldn’t say anything after that because his throat had started to hurt. His eyes became moist. But before Paul could see that, he pressed his lips against him one more time.


End file.
